The Butterfly Effect
by MISSYAlexandra
Summary: Mary gets conned into making Jinx something "special" for her birthday by Brandi, Marshall lends his assitance and things start to heat up...


Usually, I'm not a person who goes to any great length of effort to do anything for anyone. But for some damn reason I'm hunched over my desk with a box of sequins, trying to dig out each little star to put on the birthday card that I'm making, yes, by hand.

My name is Mary Shannon, and today is my mother's birthday. The reason why I'm feeling— and not to mention looking—ridiculous at work while gluing each of these godforsaken tiny stars onto a my lovely piece of brown paper is all thanks to my nutcase of a sister, Brandi, insisting we do something "special" for mom's birthday. And yes, somehow "special" involves using my lunch break to make a card by hand, something I haven't done since I was ten, and even then, I don't think I put this much time and effort into it.

"What are you doing?" came Marshall's voice from the doorway.

"Holy freakin' Jesus, Marshall! Can you give a girl some notice?" I cursed as I sliced my hand on the stanley knife I stupidly left upturned on my desk.

"My deepest apologies, my dear" sarcastically replied Marshall "What's with the concentration face?" probed Marshall.

I scowled and turned my chair away from him, hiding my masterpiece in progress.

"If you're really interested, I'm making Jinx a card for her birthday" I replied, continuing to glue little stars and hearts around the border.

Suddenly, Marshall's legs were in front of me, and his hand was on my forehead.

"You feel a bit feverish, Mare, are you sure you're okay?" asked Marshall, mock concern written all over his face. I swatted his hand away and kept working on my card.

"Can't a daughter make a card for her mother's birthday?" I asked.

"Not your style... especially not handmade" replied Marshall, reaching over my arm to steal my lunch.

"Hey! I was eating that!" I complain, grabbing at his offending arm that stole my lunch, and that's tuna casserole!

"Nuh uh, you're busy making cards" replied Marshall, while munching on my lunch.

"Not anymore I'm not. Now make do with the food, doofus!" I order, in my best I'm-a-US-Marshal-so-shut-the-hell-up voice, and lean back to display my masterpiece to the food stealer. He leans over, inspecting my card, he looks somewhat satisfied but then looks up at me and says, "Not done", then stuffs another mouthful of my lunch into his trap for show.

I sit up in outrage and slap my hands on my desk.

"What do you mean it's not done? How is it not done?" I complain, thinking my card looked awesome.

"See this? Needs something" pointed out Marshall, running his finger in a circle around the silver rectangle on the card. "What about a butterfly?" suggested Marshall.

I looked at him in disbelief.

"Marshal Marshall Mann, I'm a US Marshal, when I joined the Marshal Service, it said nothing about needing to know how to make paper butterflies, what makes you think I can make butterflies?" I rant.

"I know you're not that talented, so I'm going to make you one" teased Marshall. "Hand me that dark blue sheet of paper, oh, and make some antennae out of that cream" asked Marshall.

"Aye aye, Sergeant" I handed him the piece of paper, then got to work on making antennae. Since I had an easier job than him, I took the opportunity to watch Marshall in his own environment, under no influence from external sources. His long nimble fingers folded and creased the paper into the appropriate triangles, rectangles and squares, working his own kind of magic. I wonder what'd feel like to have those fingers on my... Holy jesus I'm distracted! Okay, antennae.

Once I finished cutting out two cream antennae as best I could, I looked up to see Marshall putting a perfectly folded, dark blue butterfly on my desk, a satisfied grin plastered on his face.

"Well I'll be damned" I said, admiring the butterfly, then attaching the antennae to it.

"Very good, now we just need to stick it to the card" said Marshall, coming to stand behind me. I started by putting it on a vertical angle, that of course, was until I feel those warm hands, and those magical fingers, encase mine and tilt the butterfly to an angle.  
>"The angle gives it a better effect" came his husky voice in my ear, his breath hot on my neck. Oh boy. I feel a surge of something— was that desire? — and tried to focus on gluing this damn butterfly to my card.<p>

Once successful, I turned slightly and craned my neck to look at Marshall.

"Is that better?" I ask, matching his own voice earlier, watching his eyes darken and his gaze flicker toward my lips. Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, oh boy. Our faces were close enough our breaths were mingling and I could feel the heat radiating off him, while some invisible force continued to pull us closer and closer together, millimetre by millimetre.

That is, of course, until Stan waltzes in and we spring apart like two magnets.

"Oh, Mary, getting creative, are we? The butterfly is a lovely touch" said Stan, admiring my finally complete card.

I look at Marshall sceptically and make a questioning hand gesture.

He just scoffs and moves over to his own desk to continue working.

And what the hell is with men and butterflies anyway?

Later at mom's birthday party, arranged by Brandi of course, I'm standing with Marshall, stuffing my face with olives and shrimp, I suddenly hear Squish say something along the lines of "and now we'll give mom all her special presents, Mary, you can go first!" she exclaimed.

I grumble, rolling my eyes and thrusting my plate of unfinished food at Marshall and grab the plain envelope containing the card from the table and took it over to where Jinx was sitting, surrounded by her guests.

"Happy birthday!" I use my best happy voice and she accepts graciously.

I watch her carefully open the envelope and I hear her gasp at the contents. Oh god, what have I done now?

"Mary... Did you make this yourself?" Jinx looks up and asks me, her eyes full of tears.

"Yeah... Marshall helped me with the butterfly though" I replied, hoping she didn't have any traumatic experiences involving butterflies; if she does, I'm going to win the worst daughter of the year award.

"Ohhh Mary it's beautiful!" she exclaims, standing up and throwing her arms around me, hugging me like I just bought her a holiday house in freakin' Morocco! Who knew one card could make me so popular? Maybe I'll make cards for Stan when I need him to pull a few strings for me... Heh, that ought to do something!

Finally, she lets go of me and continues to gush about how beautiful the card is, at least I'll be free from birthday-related shuns for the next 365 days. Since Brandi's giving her her present now, I decide to slip back to my olives and shrimp waiting with Marshall, I'm hoping he hasn't eaten them already.

Fortunately finding my temporarily abandoned food all still there, I accept the paper plate from Marshall and continue eating.

"I never knew taking an hour out of my day to make a simple birthday card could make someone so happy" I say quietly, still in shock at the reaction.

"It's the thought that counts, Mare" replied Marshall, moving closer to me.

"I never knew that a butterfly could make someone cry either" I muse, nodding thoughtfully.

"Butterflies do more than just make people cry, Mary" murmured Marshall, and suddenly we were back in the office, stuck in the time warp of 'will we or won't we' until we were interrupted by Stan.

His hand moves to my cheek, softly stroking, full of tenderness. I feel my stomach do a somersault and I gravitate towards Marshall, sucked in by some invisible force for the second time that day. My hands move to his shoulders, and I feel his other hand come to rest on the other side of my face, and slowly, but surely, we continue moving closer together, my hands gliding over his neck, thumbs brushing his slight stubble.

Somehow we manage to close those last few inches between us; completely pressed up against him in every way, his smooth lips gliding over mine, kissing, sucking and tasting. A moan escapes me, and it just continues to fuel his fire and egg him on further. My senses were being filled with everything that is Marshall Mann, I could kiss him for the rest of my life. Eventually, we become deprived of oxygen and we're forced to break away from each other; lips swollen, tinges of red and erratic breathing.

The temperature just shot up 20 degrees.

I make a show out of fanning myself, Marshall just laughs at my antics and pulls me back to him and continues his new favourite hobby: kissing US Marshal Mary Shannon; I bet his ego just tripled in size.

We continue to explore our newfound comfort zone throughout Jinx's birthday party, butterflies, shrimp and olives forgotten.


End file.
